


I Just Died In Your Arms

by insideimfeelindirty



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Kink Meme, Magic Jizz, Necrophilia, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 23:59:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18398999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insideimfeelindirty/pseuds/insideimfeelindirty
Summary: For the kink meme promt:Bellamy Blake was cursed by a cunt of a witch many moons ago, anytime he has sex with someone he without a doubt gives them the best orgasm of their life.. only problem is once he comes inside them they die. After a coupe of mishaps he swears off sex, for years, but then he meets Clarke Griffin and has never wanted to put his dick in someone more in his life so decides fuck it, he'll just pull out. But what he doesn't count on is the noises she makes and her party tricks so he comes unexpectedly.Its up to you, Clarke can either be the exception to the rule - maybe she's the one who cursed him while in disguise or she dies, and Bellamy being Bellamy thinks well if my dick can kill then maybe his dick can give life, so he fucks her while shes dead.Your choice whether she lives or not.TW: necrophilia, like for real





	I Just Died In Your Arms

At first he thought it was some kind of fucked up coincidence. When Roma died while his come was still spurting into her, they were both off their heads after snorting some dodgy shit in an ever dodgier dive bar bathroom. The coroner’s report came back as a drug overdose and that was the last time he touched drugs, but he didn’t yet know he should’ve been swearing off pussy. 

 

Then Bree died, her dead body collapsing on top him mid-orgasm. Congenital heart disease, they said. Rare, of course, but not within the realms of the impossible. He felt terrible for months after, she’d been a sweet girl and an enthusiastic lay, and maybe if they hadn’t been going so hard at it she would’ve been fine. 

 

When Gina died he knew he’d fucked up. Gina was different, too good for him really, and he’d taken his time with her. They’d been on a few dates and done nothing below the waist until she’d taken his hand coyly and dragged him up the stairs to her apartment. He’d blown his load down her throat and it took him a while to notice she’d gone limp. When he pulled himself out of her she’d slumped to the floor in a heap, her vacant eyes staring up at the ceiling. This time the coroners didn’t have an answer, no substance abuse or pre-existing condition to hide behind. It was him, he was killing them. 

 

After that there was an awkward doctors appointment that got him a referral to a clinical psychologists and a sperm test that came back just fine. Then it finally dawned on him. The stupid fucking fair Octavia had insisted on going to when she was still living at home, that fortune teller who’d told her she’d get married within the year and move across the country, that weird ass curse she’d hissed at him under her breath as he dragged his sister out of the tent. It all added up. Ok, so he probably shouldn’t have cussed that woman out for doing a bit of play acting, and he definitely shouldn’t have gone all psychotic protective brother and threatened her with physical harm, but cursing his actual come? What a dick move. Literally. 

 

The longer he thought about it, the more plausible it became. Octavia had, in fact, run off with Lincoln to join that bike gang in California almost exactly a year later. She hadn’t told him about the wedding until five years later, when she finally picked up the phone when he called her, so that’s why it hadn’t really clicked. That, and the fact that the curse that cunt of a witch had spat at him made no fucking sense. How was he supposed to know that “ _your seed will never settle_ ” translated into your spunk will literally kill anything it touches? 

 

He decided to test the theory then, leaving a tiny drop of his jizz on a piece of paper on the floor, wondering whether cockroaches roaming his apartment lived up to their name and actually enjoyed the taste of semen. Turns out they did, cause he found three dead ones next to the piece of paper the next morning, the filthy fuckers. He silently thanked the higher powers that the resident mouse he’d been sneaking breadcrumbs to wasn’t a cum guzzler, and promptly vowed to find a way to break the curse. And also not to kill anyone else with his man juice.

 

He managed to trace down the witch that cursed him to an address in Jersey, but in a cruel twist of fate she’d gone and got herself killed in a car accident a few years ago. Her daughter had thrown her head back and laughed raucously when he’d told her the story and just said it “sounded like her mom,” patted him on the back and told him not to commit any more spermicide. They stayed in touch since, mostly because he hoped she’d figure out how to break the curse and because she felt sorry for him.

 

He’s been living like a monk ever since, nothing but his hand and a fleshlight to keep him company. And then he meets Clarke. And for the first time in his life he’s scared. 

 

She’s beautiful in the most obvious way. Big tits, blue eyes, a mouth that makes his balls sweat. She laughs like he’s the funniest man in the world and she makes him feel like he is too. When she smiles he forgets to breathe. And for some reason, she seems to be just as stupid for him as he is for her. 

 

They’ve been on ten dates in as many days when she gets tired of him eating her out. 

 

“I want your cock inside me,” she says, and he worries he’s going to murder her on the spot, his cock acting like some kind of heat seeking missile. 

 

He hasn’t told her about his jizz problem, not really sure how you bring something like that up without sounding deranged. But he has been experimenting. He’s tested contraceptive gels, which aren't as effective as he’d hoped (RIP Ratatouille the mouse, who also turned out to be a bit of a deviant) and he’s also been working on some tantric techniques which is probably his best bet. If he just doesn’t come anywhere near her, she should be fine. 

 

He doubles up on the condoms just to be safe, but as soon as Clarke excitedly flops down on his bed, tits bouncing, he starts to doubt himself. She’s so fucking hot he can barely stand it. He breathes deeply like he practiced, tries to clear his mind, but she strips off her clothes and her cunt is so pink and pretty that his breath stutters in his chest. 

 

“Come on Bell,” she breathes, squirming against his sheets. “Need you to fill me up.”

 

He inhales slowly and climbs over her, her small hand immediately wraps around his cock and it feels so fucking good the way she squeezes him slightly. 

 

“ _Shit_ ,” he whines, before getting his breathing back under control. 

 

She licks into his mouth eagerly, her tongue warm and probing. He slides his fingers up her slit, the slick sounds of her arousal making him even harder, her soft moans sending little tingles up his spine. He pushes into her in one swift move, filling her to the hilt. He pauses there, letting himself get used to the feel of a cunt around him. She feels so hot and tight, his cock completely swallowed up by her wet heat. He has to control himself, make his breathing even and letting the concentrated pleasure in his cock spread over his whole body. He’s just barely ready when she sways her hips up against him, drawing a sharp gasp from him.

 

“You feel so fucking good inside me,” she pants, dragging his nails down his spine and digging them into his ass, pulling him closer. 

 

He starts to thrust slowly, desperately trying to control the pace, but she bucks up against him, pulls him in deeper.

 

“Take it easy, princess,” he whispers, trying to keep up with her. 

 

“Harder, Bellamy,” she demands, clenching her cunt around him, lifting her hips to meet him. 

 

He obliges, fucking into her harder, slamming his hips against her. The moan that leaves her throat is obscene, drawing out of her slowly and then huffing out when he rams his cock into her over and over. He’s starting to sweat, small drops of perspiration beading on his forehead as he’s fighting to control himself. 

 

“ _Oh fuck_ ,” she moans, almost shouting into his ear, her teeth cutting a sharp line down the column of his throat. 

 

Her legs start to clamp around him, shaking with exertion, her peaked nipples scraping against his torso. He can tell she’s about to come so he increases his speed, making her let out a long, punctuated wail. It’s all getting a bit much, the wet slaps of their bodies, the heavy, tangy smell of sex, the pornographic noises that comes out of her mouth. She starts to arch against him, her cunt fluttering around his cock, her nails scraping hard against his skin. 

 

“Come with me, babe,” she whines into his ear, her fingers sliding between his ass cheeks and rubbing tight circles over his hole.

 

His vision goes black and he throws his head back, heat spreading from his balls up his shaft. 

 

“Oh yes!” she shouts, coming hard, her whole body shuddering.

 

“Oh fuck no,” he curses, coming in thick, hot bursts, unable to stop himself. 

 

He comes to his senses a fraction later, jumping off her, still pulsing into the condoms. She’s lying stock still on the bed, blissful look on her face, her cheeks flushed. 

 

“No no no no no,” he mutters to himself, slapping her cheeks lightly, checking her pulse. Nothing. 

 

It’s happened again, despite his best efforts, and he’s killed the most perfect girl he’s ever known. He gets desperate, tries to administer CPR. He breathes short bursts of air into her mouth, pushes so hard on her chest that he worries he’s gonna break her ribs, but she doesn’t magically start breathing because he wants her to, and her heart won’t start beating for him no matter how much his bleeds for her. 

 

A few desperate, fruitless google searches and more than a few helpless tears later he calls the only person he can think of considering the situation.

 

“So you fucked another girl to death,” Raven deadpans, surprisingly calm about the whole situation. 

 

“Your mother cursed me,” he interjects, feeling a distinct lack of sympathy radiating from the other end of the line. “Are you sure you don’t know how to reverse the curse?”

 

“That rhymes,” Raven laughs, while he groans. 

 

“Raven, please!” he begs, feeling Clarke’s skin starting to cool. “This girl, she’s it for me.”

 

“Well, then you shouldn’t have fucked her,” Raven says, matter-of-factly. 

 

“Believe me, I tried,” he sighs, resting his head on Clarke’s stomach. 

 

“Have you tried to un-fuck her?” Raven suggests, and while the words sound like a joke, her voice is completely serious. 

 

“What does that even mean?” he says, running a fist through his hair. 

 

“Maybe reversing the action will reverse the curse,” she explains, but it doesn’t really sound like she’s confident it will work. 

 

“You mean fuck her again?” he asks, incredulous. He’s really starting to question Raven’s morals. 

 

“At this point you really have nothing to lose.” She’s getting impatient with him, as usual. Her brain works faster than his, which is why he called her in the first place, but also why it’s always a long time between each time. 

 

“That’s literal necrophilia, Raven,” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

 

“Semantics,” Raven snorts. “In terms of morally questionable actions, I’m pretty sure killing someone with your junk is worse than trying to fuck them back to life.”

 

“As always, you’re a fountain of wisdom,” he says, his eyes roving over Clarke’s dead body, his brain already trying to justify what he’s about to do.

 

“Later, fuckboy,” Raven laughs and hangs up before he has a chance to retort. 

 

Clarke is still very much totally dead on his bed. She’s still got this tiny smile on her face, an expression of absolute serenity all over her features. Her mouth is darker pink than usual, the same pink as her stiff nipples. She’d felt so good coming around his cock, so fucking tight and hot and perfect and he knows he’s not going to be able to forgive himself if he doesn’t at least try to save her. 

 

“Fuck, you’re really doing this,” he mutters to himself, slapping a flat palm against his cheek. 

 

He takes a couple of deep breaths and tries to think happy thoughts as he climbs on top of her. He thinks about the sounds she makes when she comes, the pretty flush of her cheeks when she laughs afterwards. She’d always laughed as she came down, those times he didn’t kill her with his come, but made her fall to pieces on his tongue and fingers. A shaky, incredulous laugh that he couldn’t get enough of. 

 

The memory is enough to make him hard again, so he slides into her easily, her cunt still wet. She is cooler now, barely tepid, but she still clings to him as he fucks into her. He hoists a limp leg up so he can hit her deeper, reasoning with himself it’s not because it feels good, but because the further into her his sperm gets the more chance of this working. Probably. And also it feels fucking fantastic. 

 

Her head bobs and her tits jiggle each time he drives into her, her arms flopping helplessly by her sides. He shouldn’t find it hot, but everything about her drives him fucking nuts. The only sounds in the room are his harsh breath and the wet slapping noises of his cock slamming into her, but he conjures up her sounds in his mind. The little moans she starts with, the soft puffs of air, the sharp gasps, the long wails and the high pitched screams. 

 

He bends down and sucks a cool nipple into his mouth, twirls his tongue around it and imagines her back arching up against him to get closer. He grazes his teeth over the hard flesh, the ghost of her fingers tugging sharply at his hair. He runs a hand down the side of her body, picturing goosebumps erupting in its wake. He fantasises about the filthy things she’d say, the way she’d moan his name into his ear. He slides a hand between them, thumbing at her clit, visualising her thighs tightening around him and he feels a tingle spread from his tailbone up his shaft. Before he knows it he’s gasping her name, coming into her wet, hot cunt with a deep grunt. 

 

The first thing he notices is her pussy fluttering around him, short, soft contractions. Then she gasps quietly, a hot burst of air against the shell of his ear. Then she laughs. That beautiful, disbelieving giggle she always lets out just after she… _wait_.

 

“That was fucking amazing, Bell,” she laughs, wrapping her warm arms around him, biting his shoulder lightly. 

 

“Clarke?” he jerks his head back so he can look at her.

 

Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes are glazed, but her heart is thrumming in her chest, her lungs rise and fall with each breath she takes. Her cunt is still pulsing around him, her nails scraping over his back and down over his ass cheeks. 

 

“That almost killed me,” she smiles, content.

 

He hisses as her fingers find his asshole, his hips jerking up into her again and she squeals with delight. 

 

“You have no idea,” he sighs, his head dropping to her shoulder with relief.

 

After he’s atoned for killing her by giving her another three orgasms with his tongue and fingers, he tells her the whole story.

 

“So I literally died?” she asks, instead of freaking out and calling the cops. “As in dead as a doornail, dearly departed, total goner dead?”

 

Her eyes are curious but her smile is genuine. 

 

“Sorry about that,” he says, stroking her cheek carefully. 

 

“Your come is really that powerful, huh?” She laughs this time, shaking her head a little. 

 

“That’s one way of saying fatal I guess," he shrugs, amazed at how cool she’s being about it all. 

 

“And then you fucked me back to life?” Her smile is wide, her eyes twinkling. 

 

He nods, definitely not about to admit how much he enjoyed thrusting into her lifeless body. 

 

“Only to save you, obviously,” he says, clearing his throat and shaking the hair away from his eyes. “I’m not into corpses or anything weird like that.”

 

“Sure,” she agrees, biting her lip to stop herself from laughing. “Nothing weird like that.”

 

“So it’s probably best if we don’t do that again,” he says, even if it’s killing him. 

 

“I don’t fucking think so,” she says forcefully, shoving at him a little. “You think I’m gonna give up that cock just because of a little dying?”

 

“Clarke…” he pleads, grabbing her hand and kissing it. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

 

“Then don’t say hurtful shit like you can’t come inside me.” Her mouth is pursed in an actual pout. His heart pounds heavily in his chest and he thinks he might love her a little. Or a lot. 

 

“You don’t need to be such a princess about it,” he grins, pulling her in for a lingering kiss.

 

“I just know what I want,” she smiles into his mouth. She drags him down on top of her, wrapping her legs tightly around his hips. 

 

“I’ll kill you,” he warns, bucking his hips up against her, making her huff. 

 

“Yeah, but what a way to go.” 

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i know, this is ridiculous


End file.
